


Be More Chill 3: Senior Year!

by ogygianprincess



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: F/M, M/M, Senior Year!, also there's gonna be angst, language typical of teen boys, mentions of sex and stuff i guess idk, this is gonna be long, title is a hsm reference so theres not gonna be 3 or anything like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-14 04:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11200125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ogygianprincess/pseuds/ogygianprincess
Summary: Middleborough's graduating class has a hell of a year up for them. Just when the gang solidifies their friend group, Christine graduates early. And once Michael starts spending time with his shady soda dealer, Jeremy's left to deal with the fallout of feeling cripplingly alone again. Oh, and the squip seems pretty keen on making surprise appearances.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my dear friend who said she wouldn't listen to BMC because she wasn't all that "into musicals anymore". I spent my time on this instead of in our group chat. And there's gonna be like 20 chapters, so eat my dick.

It’s 4 am on the first day of Jeremy’s senior year. And although there’s a voice in his head yelling at him to go the fuck to sleep, it’s not the squip, because the red Dew that Michael had brought about an hour ago had done its job.

  
It’s also the reason he has no desire to go to bed.

  
So he’s reasonably irritated when, after losing the level for the sixth consecutive time, Michael turns off the TV and decides that “Okay, you’re gonna sleep.”

  
“No, I’m not.” He reaches across the beanbag for the TV remote, but Michael holds it out of reach and gives him a don’t-you-fucking-dare look.

  
“Do you want me to bring the blanket upstairs or are you crashing here?”

  
“As soon as you leave I’m gonna power it back up.”

  
“So I’ll stay. And,” Michael says, then violently rips the batteries out of the remote and hurls them across the room. They hit the wall with a sickeningly loud thud and fall behind the couch. It’s all so dramatic, Jeremy can’t help but laugh.

  
“What the fuck, dude?”

  
“Shh.” Michael’s on his feet now, grabbing a throw pillow and tossing it Jeremy’s way. He catches it just as Michael collapses back onto the floor.

  
“You want me to sleep for the, what, two hours before I actually have to get up?”

  
“I want you to get enough sleep so that Christine won’t come whining to me about you being a tired piss-baby.”

  
“Joke’s on you, I’m gonna be a tired pissbaby no matter what.”

  
But Michael’s too busy checking his phone to reply.

  
Jeremy sits up in his beanbag. “Who-”

  
“Your hookup.” His fingers pause above his screen before he types something out.

  
Right. Jeremy should have known. Michael’s been spending more and more time with his 90’s soft drink dealer (although he supposed it was now _their_ 90’s soft drink dealer, considering their collective mass purchases of Mountain Dew red). Mostly he just meets him at Spencer’s in the mall during his shift, but Spencer-- yes, really his name, and Jeremy had been high when Michael first told him that fun fact so he’d spent roughly ten minutes giggling about it-- had, on occasion, invited Michael to his apartment.

  
Because he’d graduated a couple years prior but stays in the area to go to community college and… sell expired soda to minors. Everything about it’s weird, but Michael doesn’t seem to mind.

  
Michael sets his phone down. “Okay, I’ll sleep if you will.”

  
So Jeremy pulls the blanket over himself and burrows into the beanbag, closes his eyes until he can tell Michael’s done watching him.

  
And that little fucker keeps checking his phone, every few minutes for the two hours until Jeremy finally gets up to shower.

 

~

  
He’s exhausted when he walks into chemistry, so, in retrospect, he probably should’ve listened to Michael. He sets his stuff at a desk next to Rich and Christine, who both seem too damn upbeat for the first monday morning of the school year.  
Okay, so that’s the exhaustion talking.

  
“Hi, Jeremy!” Christine hugs him, presses close so Jeremy can smell her (strawberry? raspberry?) shampoo. And it’s really nice, because he missed her, even if he saw her just a week ago at Chloe’s bonfire. Rich fist-bumps him. “Did you see the play sign-ups?” Christine asks him.

  
“Nope, just got here. But I wouldn’t miss spending all that time with you, making a play that’s hopefully better than last year’s.” Yes, Jeremy, very romantic. Remind her of the time you almost destroyed humanity. He cringes.

  
She averts her eyes for a second. “Well, here’s the thing-”

  
The bell rings. “Hold that thought,” Jeremy says. “We’ll talk during lunch?”

  
Christine nods, and they all scramble to their seats.

 

~

  
Jeremy’s got calculus with Jenna, which is an adventure. But other than that, his classes are full of strangers who shoot him horrified looks from across the room.  
Which is fair.

  
Because even if his friends forgave him for last year, there’d always be people who wouldn’t. It’s not like he wants to associate with these people, anyway, but it still hurts to have such a reputation. As he stands across from the cafeteria, waiting for Christine, groups of students fall silent as they approach. Bitterly, Jeremy pretends to check a text on his phone.

  
“Hey,” Christine says, touching his arm lightly.

  
He looks up. “Oh, hi!” She looks relieved to see him. Jeremy melts a little. “So I was thinking we’d go to Chipotle today? We haven’t been in a while, and I know you really like it-”

  
“Jeremy, I’m not signing up for the play this year.” And she takes her hand away.

  
“Oh, okay.” Not too big a deal, but pretty shocking nonetheless. “Uh… why not?”

  
“Well, I got into Juilliard.”

  
“That’s fantastic!” That also has no correlation with the fact that she wouldn’t do the play. In fact, quite the opposite. But he waits.

  
Christine smiles shyly, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks. But, I, uh, I talked to my counselor and she says with the summer school classes I took, I have enough credits to graduate a semester early. And I’m gonna do it.”

  
It’s like something short-circuits in Jeremy’s brain for a few seconds before he can process the information. “Oh, okay,” he says again.

  
“So I’d be leaving before the play. Jake’s still doing it, though, and I really think you should, too!”

  
He’s suddenly struck with a billion questions he won’t ask her. _You told Jake before you told me? When did you decide?_ Then, _Are you breaking up with me?_

  
But she takes his hand. “I don’t leave until November. And even then, I’ll only be a couple hours away. We can make it work, can’t we?”

  
“Yeah,” Jeremy says, but his throat feels dry and wrong. “Yeah, we’ll make it work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell w me!! my url is ogygianprincess


	2. Chapter 2

Rich's squip was acting up. It hadn't in a while. So he called Jeremy, who grabbed some Dew from the mini fridge and headed over.

"It hurts like hell, dude," Rich says, between sips. He'd stopped panicking, at least, and Jeremy had made him sit out on the porch to get some fresh air.

Jeremy nods. He would know better than anyone. It seemed that the two of them were the only ones to experience aftershocks, even if half the class was squipped last year. The experience they share is heinous. Jeremy likes to describe it as "the horrific pain of first activating your squip, stretched out over the hours it takes you to find your favorite discontinued soft drink."

Although, if you couldn't, the pain would eventually stop. Except your squip could talk to you again.

So Jeremy liked to keep the mini fridge as stocked as he could.

"So, tell me about Christine. You gonna get some before she's off to Juilliard?" Rich snorts.

"Shut up, Rich."

"No, okay, I'm serious. I know holding hands is pretty hardcore for you two, but-"

"Come on, man." Jeremy's heart had sunk the moment Christine was mentioned. Thinking about her absence was the last thing he wanted to do.

Rich seems to pick up on this. "Sorry. You know, if anyone could make that long distance thing work, it's you two."

Jeremy laughs, one petty syllable of exasperation. "Really? Because I think she's totally gonna get bored of me. She's gonna meet a hot hipster at a coffee shop who has abs and can recite all of Shakespeare's sonnets by memory."

"Shit, dude."

"It could happen," Jeremy says quietly.

"Are you dumb? She's totally into you."

"Or maybe she's been faking it the whole time because she pities me."

Rich grabs Jeremy's keys from the table and throws them at him. They fall into his lap. "Get outta here. I don't tolerate bullshit on my porch."

~

Michael's a bit more honest with him.

"Yeah, that's possible. I mean, she really didn't have any interest in you before the squip. Even after, when she was dating Jake." He pops a quarter into the gum ball machine--one they frequent at every visit to the mall. "Prediction?"

"Grape," Jeremy says. Then, "Why are you telling me that?"

Michael holds up the gum ball. Grape, indeed. He hands it to Jeremy. "Because you asked. And it's nothing you don't know already."

"It's not very nice."

"I'm not supposed to be nice, I'm supposed to be your best friend." He taps Jeremy's nose. "Now, are we done here?"

"Yeah, I guess." It was Michael who dragged him to the mall, anyway. Jeremy just wanted to stay at home and whine about his issues. Maybe smoke up.

"We're gonna stop at Spencer's, then."

Jeremy lets out a noise that sounds vaguely like "NoIwannagohomepleaseletmegohomeMichael."

"No!" And he grabs Jeremy's arm and starts pulling him through the mall. "You're gonna meet Spencer because he's curious why you're buying him out."

"I'm not gonna tell him."

"Of course not. But he'd still like to meet you."

"He'll be severely disappointed."

Michael stops dead in the middle of the walkway. A few irritated customers grumble as they pass by. "Can you stop saying that shit? You're starting to sound like your squip, again. It's scary."

"Okay," Jeremy says.

Michael raises an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Okay, yes. Okay, that's fine. Can we go now?"

Michael hums. Grabs Jeremy's arm and pulls him along. "One more stop."

~

The darkness and funky smells in the place are enough to put Jeremy off ever returning. He knows that if Michael didn't have his glasses on, he wouldn't be able to see anything. The atmosphere is oppressive, a possible explanation as to why there are only a few people in the shop just milling about.

But there's no one in line, so Michael drags him right up to the counter.

Spencer's taller than either of them, and less shady than Jeremy would have expected. The kind of stubble that cleans up nicely. Toned arms. He's got his name tag on, and written under his name in pen: "Yes, really my name!" And his bag is covered in little pins. A rainbow one (ah). A triforce. One with a goomba on it. He's the definition of an actually cool gamer, and Jeremy immediately resents him.

"Michael!" They bump fists.

Michael leans himself halfway onto the counter, and it'd totally look weird if it was anyone else. "Check it out, I brought your number one customer."

So Spencer turns his attention to Jeremy. "Hey, little dude! You're Jeremy, then. I'm Spencer." He sticks out his hand, and Jeremy smiles politely as he shakes it. It's too formal. He knows it's intended as a nice gesture, but he can't help but feel a bit patronized by it.

A woman waiting behind them clears her throat. She's ignored.

"He's gonna give me a ride home soon, but I wanted to stop in so you could meet him," Michael explains.

"Yeah, I'm glad you did. I've heard so much about you," he tells Jeremy.

"Good things, I hope."

Michael laughs. "'Course, dude."

"Excuse me," the woman says, glaring at the three of them.

"We're gonna hit the road. Bye, Spencer. Text me." Michael gives him a friendly touch on the arm.

"Yeah, see you guys!"

Jeremy doesn't say anything until they're out of the store (Does bursting into laughter count as saying anything?).

Michael glares at him. "What?"

Between giggles, Jeremy manages, "What? You were literally draping yourself over the counter. 'Text me, Spencer!'"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." But the smile Michael's trying to hide says otherwise.

"Oh my god, you've got a big gay crush on him."

Maturely, Michael sticks his tongue out at Jeremy. "So what?"

"So, he's old and shady. He'll be like, 'Hey, wanna make out in my rusty white van?' and you'll be like, 'Oh, hell yeah,' and-"

"He's only a couple years older than us!"

"You're still a minor."

Michael lifts his shoulders. "Actually, the age of consent in New Jersey is sixteen."

"You looked it up!" Jeremy slaps his hand against his forehead. "Oh my god, you looked it up!"

He rolls his eyes. Nudges Jeremy's shoulder. "Relax, nothing's gonna happen. He probably just thinks I'm some dumb little kid trying to get a good deal on soda."

"But you'll tell me if anything changes, right? If you go missing out of nowhere, we've gotta have a lead." He stops walking to look directly at Michael. (Up at Michael. God, he hates that Michael's taller.)

"Of course. You're my best friend."

"And don't you forget it." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry this is really gay lmao

Last year, it almost annihilated the entire human race, but this year?

Middleborough’s theatre program is thriving.

Or, theoretically, it should be. The boosters were so impressed with the previous play, the program got shitloads of money. But even on the first day, things are falling apart without Christine.

“This is gonna suck,” Jeremy observes.

They’re sitting in a circle, waiting for Mr. Reyes to arrive. A group of clique-like, nervous freshman has already formed. Then there’s Jake. And Jeremy, of course. But no one else.

“When Mr. Reyes sees that Christine isn’t here, he’s gonna retire.” Jake’s toe rubs at a scuff on the stage. He’s hunched over, and it looks like this is the last place he wants to be. So why’d he do it last year?

Ah. Christine.

It should be weird, Jeremy’s being such good friends with his girlfriend’s ex, but it’s not. The entire group moved past “weird” the moment they were all out of the hospital. The moment Jenna started orchestrating “group squip therapy” out of her basement every week. Thank god that ended once summer was over.

Jake nods towards the freshman. “We should convince them that the stage is like, haunted or something. And that’s why no one signed up.”

“Why, so we can do a two-man show?”

“Dude, think about it. We could fuck with the lights and shit-- hey, isn’t Michael working tech crew?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t you say he was?”

Jeremy scoffs. “Yeah, he said he would, too. I guess he’s got better things to do. It’s fine. I’m not bitter,” he says, bitterly.

Jake shrugs, like, yeah man, whatever, and his attention goes back to the scuffed floor.

Actually, Jeremy’s surprised that it wasn’t Jake who decided he had better things to do. It’s no secret that his home life’s gotten crazy (he doesn’t ever talk about it, but Jeremy still feels guilty about not asking), but he’s also doing lacrosse. And college prep. Plus, there are rumors that he’s back together with Chloe.

So, yikes.

Finally, Mr. Reyes comes in. He surveys the room, then looks at the clock. Rehearsal started ten minutes ago.

“Where’s Christine?” He’s looking at Jake. Jeremy frowns.

Jake looks shaken. “Not… here.”

“She’s graduating early,” Jeremy butts in. A nervous glance around tells him that everyone’s staring. “So she won’t be doing the play this year.”

“Her name wasn’t on the signup,” Mr. Reyes says, but now he’s talking to himself. “I never thought she wouldn’t be… It doesn’t matter.” He straightens up. “Heere, Dillinger. I expect nothing but spectacular effort on your part as the only senior members of our troupe.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And no funny business like last year.”

“Of course, sir.”

  
~

  
“How was rehearsal?” Michael asks, even before Jeremy’s all the way in the car.

“Heinous,” he says, slamming the door.

“You’re just pissed because Christine wasn’t there.”

“And because Mr. Reyes suddenly expects Jake and I to step up our game and be, like, the Jesus Christs of acting.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “I don’t wanna talk about it. What’d you do?”

Because Michael has been grinning like an idiot this whole time. He turns his head so he’s facing Jeremy, then points to his ear. “Check it.”

“No way.” It’s pierced. Nothing special, just a little black stud. It’s classy, and so _Michael_ that Jeremy wonders why he didn’t get it done earlier. He reaches out to touch it, but Michael slaps his hand back.

“Don’t get it infected, nasty.”  
  
“Is that the gay ear?”

Michael snorts. “What is this, seventh grade?” Then, “But yeah.”

A car behind them honks. Michael sticks his middle finger out the window for a few seconds before pulling out of the school’s lot. He’s watching the road now (thankfully), so Jeremy can’t see the piercing anymore, but he still stares at Michael’s profile.

“Wouldn’t you have to have your mom come in with you or something?”

“Nope, just needed written permission.” He clicks his tongue. “Which I forged. So I’m gonna have to hide this from my mom somehow.”

Jeremy laughs. Looks away, because it’s rude to stare. “How do you plan on doing that?”

He considers this for a minute. “I’m only seventeen for another month. Then she can’t do anything.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate her. As long as you live there, she could still make your life hell. Bar up your windows or something crazy.”

“Maybe I’ll just go live with Spencer.” Michael’s smirking, so Jeremy knows he’s (at least half) joking, but the thought still makes his stomach sink.

“Totally not acting like you can’t make your own decisions,” Jeremy says, “But that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard and if you do that I’ll never talk to you again. But it won’t matter because he’s probably some creep who’s trying to kill you.”

Michael nods in faux-solemnity. “Thank you. I will take your opinion into highest consideration.”

“No, you won’t.” Jeremy crosses his arms, because hey, if Michael’s not being the drama queen in this conversation, who will be?

“Correct. Hey, can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Why?” It comes out a bit more aggressively than Jeremy intended. It makes Michael laugh.

“Whoa, fine. Is daddy Heere getting sick of having me around all the time?”

“Eww, don’t call him that.” If Jeremy’s dad has gotten rattled by Michael’s constant presence at their house, he sure hasn’t said anything.

“Way to make an assumption. I was talking about you.”

Jeremy whips his head to glare at Michael, whose soft giggles fill the car. “That’s-- you’re gross.”

“So, to clarify, you’re _not_ letting me stay the night?”

“No, you can, although I might rethink that. I was just wondering why.”

“Because you’re gonna help me think of a plan to hide this-” He points to his ear. “-from my dear mother so she doesn’t behead me.”

“Only if you help me with my stat homework.” They’ve arrived at his place. Michael pulls into the driveway.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell with and/or at me!! my url is ogygianprincess


	4. Chapter 4

So they’re doing stat. And somewhere along the line Jeremy starts talking about how much he absolutely fucking hates anything to do with math, and that turns into nearly having a breakdown about his future plans.

So they put their pencils down and talk about that.

“But you’ve started looking at colleges, right?” Michael asks him.

They’re sitting on Jeremy’s bed, their homework spread out between them. Michael’s clutching a pillow close to his chest, pulling out all the little feathers he can find. He piles them up next to his foot.

“Yeah, of course.” Jeremy’s dad had taken him on somewhat of a college visit that summer. Just all the local ones, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to stay in the area. He still isn’t sure about anything. “What about you? What’re you thinking?”

“Colorado.”

“Hah.”

Michael shrugs, stretches out his leg so he’s poking Jeremy with his toe. “It’s pretty there.”

“You just wanna be a stoner, but like, legally.”

“Maybe.” He gets quiet after that. “Honestly? I don’t get why you’re so worried about college. You know you’re gonna thrive.”

But there’s something that Jeremy hasn’t brought up. He’s not sure either of them ever brought it up, which is… frightening. “I don’t wanna be alone,” he starts. Then clarifies. “Without you, I mean. If we don’t get accepted to the same place or if we do but don’t have any classes and never see each other and drift apart.”

Michael’s just staring at him, so he continues. “It’s really dumb? But I couldn’t really make new friends before the squip. Now that I’m without it, I, uh-”

“That’s not dumb.”

Now it’s Jeremy’s turn to stare, because, yikes, this is getting pretty sentimental, but Michael cracks a smile and says, “I can always just get a doctor’s note that says I need you within a mile of me at all times or I’ll spontaneously combust. Then we can be roommates and stay up all hours of the night playing video games and shit talking our professors.”

“We already do that.”

“Get this-- we’ll do more of it.”

And yeah, it sounds really nice, but it’s still a joke. Which means neither of them have a real plan. And he asks, “So neither of us have a real plan?”

Michael starts rolling a hoodie string in his fingertips (a nervous habit he picked up around eighth grade). “Here’s a plan. Remember freshman year, when you spent the entire winter break without me because my family was on that cruise?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy smiles. “You sent me a package literally every day of Hanukkah.”

Michael claps, and then-- oh, god forbid, he’s doing jazz hands. “Made it work. See? Distance doesn’t have shit on us. It’s gonna take a lot more than that to make me forget you.” Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Even when I've really, really wanted to.”

Ouch. Painful, but fair. And Jeremy deserves way worse than just the occasional zinger for the way he'd treated Michael last year. “Look, I'm-”

“Don't! Don’t apologize. I said I forgave you. We're good.”

It's good-natured, he can tell that much, but why does Michael sound so irritated? The silence that follows is either painfully awkward or Jeremy’s just imagining it to be. Either way, it just makes him want to apologize again.

“You got any frozen pizzas?” Michael asks. “I'm sick of this.” He scoops his stat homework into a pile and drops it onto the floor, where it lands with a thud.

Jeremy does the same, eager to be rid of it. “Yeah, let's go make it.”

They decide to channel their inner middle schoolers and make a sort of nest in the basement, pushing together two couches and loading it up with blankets. Jeremy comes up with the idea to add a pint of ice cream, and it's a recipe for one hell of a Tuesday night.

Playing video games while eating isn't exactly efficient, so some conversation is struck up.

“How’re things with Christine?” Michael asks all of the sudden.

Some weird-ass conversation.

Jeremy ponders. “Good… I think? We went to a movie with Jake and Chloe the other day. It was fine.”

“Fine?”

“I'm really nervous she's gonna break up with me, and I think she can tell.”

“Maybe not. She might just think you're being your usual awkward self.”

“Also a possibility.” Jeremy scratches his arm, awkwardly, and then asks, “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yup,” Michael says, a bit too quickly. “Like what?”

“Like how things are going with _Spencer_.” And he throws in an eyebrow wiggle for good measure. Because that's what friends do. Gossip about romantic drama.

Has he been spending too much time with Jenna lately? Probably.

Michael points his ice cream spoon at Jeremy. “Yes! That reminds me! Would you consider a drive in movie to be, like, a date?”

“What the hell?”  
He's completely ignored. Michael trucks forward.

“Because he invited me to go see one with him on Saturday!” He's beyond excited. If Jeremy didn't know Michael better, he would’ve thrown in the word “squeal”. But Michael Mell does not squeal. It's more of an excited, loud whisper.

“That-” A beat. “Yeah, that sounds like a date.”

And maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because his best friend looks like he's just about to burst with unbridled joy. His eyes are shining behind his glasses and he's bouncing a little (well, he's always bouncing a little) and Jeremy can't help but smile a little at that.

“You think so?”

It brings Jeremy back down to Earth. “But are you sure he's not some creep-o murderer?”

“Yes, mom,” Michael groans. “Pretend to be happy for me for at least a minute, please.”

“I am!”

He almost convinces himself. It's hard when you're being stared down with puppy-dog eyes.

“Yes, Michael. God! I'm so damn happy for you that you're finally getting dick, congratulations!”

“Thank yooou.” He grins. “Now.” He points to the video game console. “Apocalypse of the Damned?”

Jeremy nods, scrambles up to go and turn on the TV. “I'm gonna kick your ass.”


End file.
